


And You Find Yourself Nine Thousand Miles from Home

by thereweregiants



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Holidays, M/M, Office Party, just shoving all the dumb christmas tropes in like an overstuffed stocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereweregiants/pseuds/thereweregiants
Summary: It's a bad idea to make Gabriel Reyes attend a holiday party.It's an even worse idea to force him into planning one.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Comments: 18
Kudos: 117





	And You Find Yourself Nine Thousand Miles from Home

**Author's Note:**

> gotta have some christmas fluff sometimes  
> there's snow on the ground so I say it's the right time of year okay fight me
> 
> written mostly to the RDR2 soundtrack  
> title from Tim Minchin's [White Wine in the Sun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCNvZqpa-7Q), aka my favorite christmas song

“Gabriel.”

Maybe if he looks really busy, really intent on his paperwork, she’ll go away.

_ “Gabriel.” _

Just completely engrossed. Focused. There’s nothing more fascinating than line item budgets, in his opinion. Even if he’s in a borrowed office in the middle of fucking nowhere without any of his usual references or tools -

A slim hand reaches in front of him and hits the power button on his computer.

“Hey! I was working on some very important business!”

Ana rolls her eyes, leaning a hip against his desk. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she says as she crosses her arms.

“Now what would give you that idea?”

“Asking Genji where you were and having him say that you were avoiding me.”

That fucker. Gabriel’s going to get tech to put a dance program into those fake legs of his. He links his hands behind his neck and leans back in his chair, looking at Ana with a level look. “Please tell me what work-related thing I can do for you. Note how I’m saying ‘work-related’ because I’m taking over Jack’s work shit, and not any of the idiotic holiday crap you feel like doing.”

Jack’s back in Switzerland, holding down the fort all nice and cozy at home. Gabriel, Ana, most of Blackwatch and half of Overwatch, on the other hand, are stuck in Watchpoint: Midlands, aka the unending monotony of the central United States. Not even the interesting parts - Chicago, or Kansas City where he could finally get some decent barbecue. Oh no, they had to be in the middle of goddamn nowhere Ohio, so they could conduct a raid on the giant Talon facility they’d constructed in the middle of the cornfields, assuming - rightly - that no one would notice it there. Almost no one, unfortunately for everyone in Overwatch. 

It’s the last week of December and the whole lot of them are grumpy. They’re all trapped here until some pet group of Petras’s finishes their threat assessment, because the man is somehow convinced that there’s a Null Sector partner cell here somewhere. As a result no one is with their families. Overwatch isn’t great at holiday time off - too many cultures with too many celebrations. Nearly everyone has some kind of winter thing, though, so the end of the year is the one time that people get to go home and celebrate.

Well, most years.

Omnics didn’t have a winter holiday that Gabriel knew about and Talon would sacrifice everything for money and violence, hence everyone being here and mad at Gabriel while Jack is probably on a vidcall with his enormous extended family right now. Gramma Morrison made the best cookies. Even Gabriel would put his dislike of Christmas on hold for Gramma Morrison.

He belatedly starts paying attention to what Ana is saying: “...and so you need to coordinate the holiday party this year.”

“Ana, I don’t do Christmas. You know I don’t do Christmas. Hell, you don’t do Christmas either! Give this to someone who gives a shit.”

She sighs, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. “We figured that you wouldn’t want to do this -”

“We? Who the fuck is ‘we’?”

“- so we put together a list for you. All you have to do is get what’s on it.”

He takes the paper, unfolds it. The list on it is...long. “Bradley Tree Farms, Norway spruce or Fraser fir, minimum of 15 feet tall - Jesus Christ.”

“If they’re out of either of those, a Blue spruce or Nordmann fir would work. Fullness of the branches and height are the most important part.” Angela’s musical voice breaks into Gabriel’s snit, and he looks up to see her looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, clad in a fuzzy white sweater.

“You’re in on this too?”

She frowns. “I always help Commander Morrison out with the party.” Ignoring Gabriel’s sigh, she points a finger to further down the list. “We decided the theme this year should be silver and navy blue with pearl -”

“I thought it was forest green, not blue,” a thickly accented voice says, and Gabriel looks up once again to see goddamn Gérard poking his head through the door of his office. 

_ “Traitor,” _ Gabriel hisses, but Gérard just flaps an overly French hand at him before grabbing the list and continues talking with Angela and Ana. “Oh no, that’s fine, just pretend like I’m not here and this isn’t my office. Borrowed office. Whatever,” he says to himself after waiting to see if they’d shut up and leave with no success, before turning back to his computer and stabbing sulkily at the power button.

Ana smacks his hand, turning it off again without breaking stride. “You should take one of the SUVs from the hangar, bring along a person or two with you to help load everything in. The tree should be able to be strapped down on top.”

Angela and Gérard have vanished, and now it’s just Ana looking down at him and holding out the paper once more. 

“Seriously, Ana,” he says, suddenly feeling very tired. “We just got done with a goddamn raid and half my people are still on the injured list.” He has twelve staples in his own calf where a stray shot ripped the muscle apart. He’ll pick them out tonight when it’s nearly healed up, but it’s still the principle of the thing.

“All the more reason to give them something to look forward to,” she says gently. “It would help to keep up morale.”

More like ‘help to prevent a riot’, Gabriel thinks to himself. Blackwatch trusts him to hell and back but to Overwatch he’s a dangerously unknown entity. They follow him because Jack trusts him, because they know what he’s done, because they’re trained military, but they haven’t spent the time with him that his own people have. It’s out of obligation, not out of faith. 

“And... _ this _ ...is what’s going to help?” he says, eyeing the neatly written list with a cocked eyebrow. Tinsel in only white or silver, napkins with metallic accents, dozens of crystal champagne glasses, four foot wreaths made out of specific trees...It sounds like a magazine-perfect holiday party thrown by a bunch of rich white people for other rich white people. 

Hell, in other words.

“Yes,” Ana says. She has bags under her own eyes. She’s as exhausted as he is, picking up the slack that Gabriel can’t with doing her own job besides. He takes the paper, biting back the comments he wants to make. He glances over it once more with a sigh. Tree farms, specialty stores, this is going to send him all over the fucking place. 

“I’m not touching the budget on this one.”

She hands him a credit chip, black and intimidatingly thick. “Petras always covers it, don’t worry.” 

He shoves the chip in his wallet, settling back in his seat in time for Ana to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, Gabriel,” she says, and then ruins the moment with, “Try and suppress all your natural instincts and inclinations and just go with the list.”

Glaring as she walks out, he tosses the paper down on his borrowed desk in disgust. He’s got to rope someone into doing this with him. Gérard’s out because he’s an asshole that thinks this is a good idea, Genji betrayed him already, Moira….

God, no. 

That only leaves one person. With a sigh, Gabriel clicks off his light and starts the journey back to his quarters. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Get the fuck up, we’re going Christmas shopping.” 

Jesse snorts himself awake as a folded up scarf hits him in the face. “What?” he says muzzily. Gabriel and Ana got their own rooms, but everyone else has been relegated to barracks. Jesse’s curled up on a bottom bunk with his serape wrapped tightly around him while Genji seems to be deep in meditation on the top bunk. 

Shoving Jesse’s legs over Gabriel sits himself down, just barely missing hitting his head on the bunk above. “Ana’s forcing me to get everything for the holiday party. You’re helping.”

Jesse squints up at him, messy brown hair falling across his face. Hunched in on himself in a ball like this he seems oddly young, until Gabriel remembers his triumphant laughter the day before as he kept count of headshots on the Talon agents in some kind of competition with Genji.

Trying to mentally run through the injured roster from last night, Gabriel’s mind tries and fails to place Jesse on it. He thinks he wasn’t injured? Much, at least. “You okay after yesterday?”

Pushing the woollen blanket back with a drowsy shrug, Jesse nods his head lazily as warm air redolent with the smell of sleep emerges to tease at Gabriel’s nose. “Coupla dings here and there, pulled my shoulder out but Angie got it back in so now it’s just sore.”

Gabriel mentally rolls his eyes at the doctor’s name - she should be doing this crap, not him. Whatever. “Meet me in the hangar in half an hour, we’re using one of the SUVs.”

Jesse nods and slings an arm over his eyes to block the light, but Gabriel gets up without saying anything else. Jesse will be there - weirdly enough the kid is never late for anything, ever. Standing, he glares at Genji for a moment. His eyes are closed but Gabriel’s never exactly sure of the capabilities of his technology. He points an annoyed finger at the meditating man, and is rewarded by seeing cheeks raising just slightly in a masked smile. 

“Asshole,” Gabriel mutters without heat as he strides out. Genji is the least of his problems today.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Gabriel doesn’t look up at the sound of the car door opening, just wordlessly hands over a thermos of coffee. Jesse takes it, making a positively indecent sound as he takes a sip that Gabriel ignores with the ease of long practice. He’s looking back and forth between the list and the map pulled up on his tablet, and this is at least two days’ worth of driving around. And the goddamn party is supposed to be tomorrow.

“Where to first?” Jesse asks laconically, like he doesn’t actually care where they’re going. He might not, at that - one mission’s as good as another for him.

Tossing the paper into Jesse’s lap, Gabriel shoves the car into gear and pulls out of the lot. “Trees.”

Jesse looks through the list as Gabriel drives, eyebrows raising higher with each item. “Well, then. This is - extensive.”

Grunting as he shifts lanes, Gabriel shrugs. “ ‘S what I was given. Looks similar to previous years, I’m assuming.” He never goes to the parties.

Shrugging himself, Jesse folds up the paper. “Wouldn’t know.”

Gabriel glances over, looks at Jesse’s profile limned in early morning light as he sleepily stares out the windshield. “You’ve never been?”

Jesse catches Gabriel’s eyes for just a second before he looks back at the road. “I’m always on mission, Gabe. Mostly with you,” he says in a tone of voice that says Gabriel should know better.

Blinking, Gabriel thinks back. He always tends to try and find some operation to do at Christmastime, so he doesn’t have to deal with questions from Jack and Ana about why he’s not going back to California or decline them dragging him home to their own families. And if Gabriel’s on a mission, his team likely is as well. Genji has no family to go back to, Moira ignores the entire concept of holidays for the most part, and Jesse…

Jesse goes where Gabriel does. Often bitching and moaning, but always reliable. He’s spent the last decade with Gabriel’s team, a few years before that in training, and prior to that he had the gang. Before that, though -  


When you work with someone long enough, particularly in the situations that they deal with that require physical and emotional trust, you learn a thousand things about them. Neither Gabriel nor Jesse ever talk much about when they were young, though. There are reasons for that.

“You ever do Christmas much as a kid?” Gabriel finds himself asking, despite himself and everything going through his head.

A soft tapping sound, from where Jesse is drumming his fingers against his knee. “Nah. Never had much to go around as a kid, and it never really felt right, tryin’ to put tinsel on a cactus and all.” There’s a laugh in his voice, but it’s a practiced one. “Then I was always too busy for it.” Busy with Deadlock, busy with Blackwatch. Gabriel knows that there’s no malice meant but he feels an unfamiliar thread of guilt run through him that he quashes as soon as he identifies it. It’s not his fault that Jesse’s been on missions for Christmas. He could always say no, Gabriel always says that they’re optional that time of year.

(Would Jesse ever say no to him? a small voice in the back of his head asks. Gabriel ignores it.)

“My grandparents ran the holidays, back in the day,” Gabriel ends up saying after a minute of silence. “After they died, none of us really had the time or energy to keep it going.” There was far more to it than that, deaths and arguments and things said that couldn’t be taken back, but isn’t that how family goes?

“Finally, details on why Gabriel Reyes hates Christmas. His Grinchy origins revealed at last.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and reaches out without looking to hit Jesse in the chest. His laugh turns into an  _ oof _ of fake pain. “Hey,” Jesse says, head turning as they pass a billboard and go through a crossroads. “Wasn’t that the sign for the tree farm?”

“Might’ve been.”

“And we’re not goin’ there because…”

“Because we’re not.” At some point in the past half hour Gabriel decided that if they were making him do the holiday party, it was going to be his kind of party. The kind of party put together by two men who hadn’t had any experience with Christmas parties for at least two decades. The kind of party Blackwatch would put together with a zero-limit credit chip.

The kind of party that would make people regret ever leaving its planning to Gabriel Reyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Gabe.”

“Yeah.”

“This is not a Christmas tree farm.”

“No, it’s not.”

“This is, if my eyes aren’t foolin’ me, a Walmart.”

“Yep.”

A pause, incredulity filling its every space. “Do you, uh. Think this is what Ana and Angela had in mind?”

“You’re assuming I care. Grab a cart.”

They get out of the warm car, and Jesse immediately shivers in the biting Midwestern cold. He’s got that wrap of his around him and the scarf Gabriel threw at him earlier, but the jeans and that idiotic hat of his are doing jack shit against the weather. Gabriel leans back into the car, roots through the go bag he tosses into every vehicle he ends up in. “Your ears are going to freeze off,” he says as he tosses a hat at Jesse.

Jesse scowls for a moment, before fingering the warm, ribbed cloth. He tosses his cowboy hat on the seat, pulling Gabriel’s hat over his hair. It looks ridiculous, his hair sticking out at the sides, but there’s a small smile on his face that for some reason makes Gabriel feel smug as he locks the car up.

They make their way through the bastion of middle America capitalism, two dark figures with a shiny silver chariot and grim faces. Gabriel determinedly goes off down the first aisle of trees as Jesse looks around curiously, holding the cart. A minute later an enormous box thunks down in front of him. Jesse looks at it quizzically. 

“Holiday Time Tinsel Fiber Optic Concord Christmas Tree in iridescent white with multicolored lights.” He eyes Gabriel, who is determinedly pushing the cart through the store. “Can’t help but notice that this isn’t quite what they put on that list.”

“Mmm.”

“This is...this is an abomination, Gabe.”

“Shove that upright, will you?” Jesse does, making room for two more trees. They look at the cart for a moment, already full in just a few minutes.

“We’re going to need another cart.”

Gabriel rampages through the aisles like a man with the hounds of hell behind him, grabbing one more tacky thing after another. It’s not until the six foot tall inflatable Santa exiting an inflatable outhouse that Jesse finally breaks. 

“Gabe.  _ Gabe, _ ” he repeats, pulling at Gabriel’s arm to get him to stop. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You can’t tell me that this is what they would have want-”

“Sure, sure, not what everyone fucking wants. How about what the people in this goddamn organization actually want?” Gabriel hadn’t realized he was so angry until he started speaking, but now that he’s on a roll he can’t stop. “How about they ask the people who were sitting on their asses inside and not on an active battlefield yesterday? Or someone that actually gives a shit? Instead of being trapped here by Petras’s goons and forced into this farce.”

Jesse’s hand is still on Gabriel’s arm, though now he’s gently squeezing it instead of the pulling of before, like you might do with an angry pet. “Okay,” he says hesitantly. “I - I saw a holographic life-size nativity set back there.” A pause. “Jesus kinda looked like Jack.” 

Gabriel looks at him for a moment before snorting out a laugh. “Yeah. Why don’t you grab it.”

Spleen vented, they start to have a better time, particularly when they start an unsaid competition to find the tackiest decor they can. It only gets worse when they go to the Christmas Tree Shops next door. Gabriel’s been carefully hunting down the ugliest Christmas sweaters possible for Ana and Angela when Jesse wanders over, his arms full of small dolls with creepy smiles and dead eyes. 

“Check this out,” he says, brandishing an Elf on the Shelf in Gabriel’s face. It’s one of their multicultural cash grab attempts - provide every child with a symbol of omnipresent corporate surveillance that looks Just Like Them. This one has tan skin and dark eyes and Gabriel already knows what’s coming when Jesse says “Now imagine frowny eyebrows and a goatee…” 

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but looks at the other elves. He grabs one with dark hair and one with red hair and blue eyes. “Draw a faceplate on this one, make this one have a red eye.” Jesse grins, up until Gabriel picks out an elf with longish hair and a dazed look about her, badly painted eyes pointing in opposite directions. “Put a little cowboy hat on this one and we’ve got a squad.” Jesse shoves them all in the cart with an elbow to Gabriel’s ribs.

Jesse wanders the aisles, every once in a while showing a new discovery to Gabriel. The farting Santa toilet seat cover and the three foot tall stuffed dog wearing reindeer antlers that barked out Christmas carols were particular high points. Finding strings of lights in the black and red of Blackwatch colors - okay maybe they were very dark purple but the point still stood - was another one.

Gabriel feels himself cheering up as he watches Jesse run around, a spreading grin on his face as he finds more and more horrible decorations. The thought occurs to him, leaning up against a stack of foot-tall chocolate Grinches, that Jesse never got to have this. Didn’t get to have the stupid shit, where the holiday isn’t just full of money worries and a guarantee of time-and-a-half but rather a celebration, stupidity and all, of family and friends. 

A time of being with the people you love.

Like the thought summoned him, Jesse nudges at Gabriel’s arm with a sharp elbow. “Hey. Lookit what I found.” At first glance it’s just some black knitted fabric, but when Gabriel unfolds it, it’s a duplicate of his always present black beanie - with the addition of a red sparkly pompom on top.

Gabriel glares at Jesse without heat, who unabashedly tosses the hat in with the enormous pile of party decorations they’ve already accumulated. “We need anything else?” he asks easily, settling himself against the display next to Gabriel. Too close, too comfortable, Gabriel thinks absently as their shoulders brush and he feels the warmth from Jesse’s thigh against the side of his own. 

He still doesn’t move.

Looking over their carts, Gabriel pulls the list out of his pocket. He hasn’t totally ignored it, it’s just that where the list says 'tasteful table runners in silver-trimmed navy' he interpreted it as 'plastic tablecloth featuring reindeer mounting each other'. You know, the way a normal person would read it.

“They’re catering it, but we’re supposed to get alcohol.”

Jesse blinks. “You think that we’re gonna be able to fit the booze this shindig’s gonna need in the SUV?” It was already near to bursting, and that wasn’t including the cart in front of them.

“Nah, we can get it tomorrow morning.”

After they somehow manage to get everything to fit in the SUV - although Jesse ends up with a box of multicolored Santa hats on his lap - they start the long drive back through the chilly winter dark. Gabriel looks over at Jesse - his head is resting against the window, eyes closed, the sodium yellow of highway lights illuminating his face every few seconds. 

Something in Gabriel unexpectedly doesn’t want the day - or perhaps the moment - to end, so when he sees the friendly yellow boxes of a Waffle House sign he pulls off the road. He still has Petras’s black credit chip, but the look on Jesse’s face when Gabriel nudges him awake says they’d be stopping even if he didn’t have it.

Gabriel gets a reasonable burger and chili, but Jesse rattles off some combination that the waitress just takes in stride with a nod and a wink down at him. It ends up being an enormous bowl with what seems like everything the place offers piled on top of hashbrowns. They eat in companionable silence, the ease of a thousand shared meals between them. Gabriel half expects Jesse to flirt with the waitress who’s doing her best to make her availability known, but he just seems to tiredly concentrate on his potatoes.

Once they’ve paid and slowly walk back through the darkened parking lot, Jesse stretches his arms out before linking his hands behind his neck and leaning up against the side of the SUV, looking up at the cold dark sky. “Y’ever wonder what it’d be like, if we worked for some normal company, an office or whatever, and had a regular holiday party?”

Gabriel pauses with the drivers’ side door open, the interior lights casting Jesse’s face into harsh shadows. “You wouldn’t know what to do with an office job.”

“You either, Gabe.”

He grunts agreement as they get back into the SUV. They drive back to the Watchpoint, a couple of killers with a car full of tacky holiday cheer that neither has experienced in recent memory.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Gabriel sends a mission alert out to his team the next morning, summoning them to the kitchen where they’d staked a claim on a table a while ago. Everyone gets their preferred form of caffeine, settling in around Gabriel and his thermos large enough to hold most of a pot on its own.

“Two things have to be done today. Getting alcohol for the party, and decorating.”

Jesse raises a hand and says “Booze!” before Gabriel can even continue. Genji raises his eyebrows, and Gabriel gives a reluctant nod. The two of them are off like a shot, Gabriel’s “Get a car from the hangar!” echoing after them.

Moira clicks her nails on her mug of tea, until Gabriel meets her odd eyed gaze. “Looks like it’s just you and me, eh Commander?” she says mildly. “The party last year was lovely, I’m assuming it will be in the same vein this year?”

Gabriel smiles. 

-x-x-x-x-x-

“I had a bunch of recruits unload everything from the car last night,” Gabriel says as they enter the mess hall that they’re going to be turning into a holiday extravaganza. There’s an enormous pile of decorations heaped on the tables closest to the door, and Moira starts to poke through it delicately. She turns to face Gabriel, a Christmas sweater with ‘Santa brings all the Ho Ho Hos to the yard’ emblazoned across the front dangling from her fingers. 

“I take it this will be in...somewhat different taste than last year,” she says with a single arched eyebrow. 

Gabriel takes the sweater from her and roots around for a minute before handing her a different one. It’s red and black, with Krampus shoving small children into a barrel on his back emblazoned across the front. “This one’s for you.” 

A slow smile spreads across Moira’s face. “Time to get the stick out of Overwatch’s behind,” she says, folding the sweater up neatly and pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. “Now where are the tablecloths?”

Several hours later, the hall has been turned into whatever the opposite of a delicate winter wonderland is. There’s an eyesearing clash of colors, enough lights to be seen from space, and multiple glowing trees. 

Some of them rotate. 

Some play music.

It’s horrendous and Gabriel is filled with the same satisfaction as from a perfectly-executed operation.

“That’s a lot of...everythin’,” a voice says from next to Gabriel, and he looks over to see Jesse blinking at the whole spectacle. The asshole is still wearing Gabriel’s hat, too. Gabriel pulls it off, leaving Jesse with ridiculous hat hair that he spends a minute attempting to control.

“Hey, you helped pick out half of it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize it’d look like - this.” Despite the words, there’s a small smile on Jesse’s face. Gabriel spends longer than he means to looking at Jesse taking it all in.

Clearing his throat, Gabriel says, “You got the drinks?”

Jesse grins. “And then some.” He points to a table behind them, where Genji is setting down the last of many bags full of clinking brown bottles. “It’s mostly rum and bourbon for the eggnog,” Jesse says, “Plus the actual nog and a bunch of champagne and wine for mullin’.”

“Not too expensive, I hope.”

“The bourbon, yes. All the wines came in boxes.” Gabriel can’t help but sigh at Jesse’s obvious glee because he might smile, otherwise. 

“And you got - nog?”

Genji sets down a carton in front of him. “Almond nog,” Gabriel reads, then picks up another carton. “Soy Nog, Not Egg Nog, Good Karma Nog - the hell, Pecan Malk Nog? What the fuck?”

“You people drink too much dairy and ostracize those of us who are lactose intolerant,” Genji says calmly as he walks up to them. “And I thought it would be in the general spirit of,” he gestures at the room. “All of this.”

“You’re not wrong,” Gabriel admits, and sets the carton down with a shrug. He hates eggnog anyways, thick milk is disgusting. Thick nog-flavored plant-based beverages can’t be any worse.

“It’ll be half booze, besides. People won’t be able to taste the difference.” Jesse roots around in the pile of Christmas sweaters in front of him. “Which one is mine?”

Gabriel grabs the sweater Moira had been examining earlier and hands it to Genji, and tugs free a green one for Jesse. “Enjoy,” he says, and hits a button on the front that makes all the attached lights start blinking like they’re at a rave.

Jesse looks delighted. “Which one’s yours?”

‘Merry Fucking Christmas’ reads the sweater in stark red and black that Gabriel pulls out. Jesse’s smile only gets bigger. “Put it on.”

“No. Unlike some people, I’ve been working my ass off all day and need a shower. Go check with Moira and see if there’s anything she wants you to do, I have to finish some paperwork.” Like coming up with a reasonable excuse for Ana and Angela, who are due back from a meeting they’re at before too long.

“Will do.” Jesse wanders off, looking around like a kid in a candy store.

Gabriel just shakes his head and goes back to his office.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Several hours later, the Overwatch-Blackwatch Official Holiday Party is in full swing. Even though he rarely makes the effort to do anything with the information, Gabriel is fairly good at understanding people. And people, even when they’re highly trained international military operatives, like silliness and cutting loose every once in a while. Between the Santa hats and reindeer antlers that everyone grabbed up and put on their overeducated and militarized heads, the excellent food from the Overwatch kitchens, and the lubrication of a liberal application of alcohol, everyone is having a good time. 

Gabriel’s leaning up against a doorway talking with Ramos, the warmth of the mulled wine in his hand working its way through his system. He sees a familiar flash of blue out of the corner of his eye and turns to see Ana and Angela, taking in the spectacle before them with wide eyes.

“Oh, here - I’ve got something for you,” Gabriel says, and bends down to grab a bag at his feet. He finds a sweater with a ragdoll hot glued to it and dressed as an angel - albeit a very down on their luck one - and hands it to Angela. Ana gets one covered in snowmen in various inappropriate positions. “Happy holidays,” he says cheerfully.

He’s never seen Ana at such a loss for words before, and is feeling satisfied that he’s finally accomplished it. Before either of the women even get a chance to say anything, however, Jesse sweeps in like a twinkling storm. “You forgot your hat!” he says, handing Gabriel the black knitted hat with a sparkling red pompom on top. 

Gabriel tugs off his usual beanie - stolen by Jesse, who promptly puts it on his own head and then sticks a headband with reindeer antlers on top - and pulls the new hat on. It fits well, surprisingly. Jesse’s gone as fast as he arrived, leaving Gabriel to look at the women with the pompom on top of his head bobbing cheerfully.

“Gabriel,” Ana begins, “This is not -”

“Look around,” he interrupts, gesturing to the room and trying not to wince at the strand of jingle bells that Jesse had wound around his wrist earlier clinking merrily. “Everyone’s having a good time and blowing off steam. Which they all need, being stuck here with us not letting them go home to their families. You really think everyone would be this happy with fucking, what? Navy table runners with metallic accents?”

Ana closes her mouth, her lips forming a tight line. She looks around the room, at the smiling faces pink-cheeked as much from laughter as from the alcohol. Her face softens slightly, even as Angela dangles her new sweater from a finger with a skeptical look. 

“I didn’t think you were much of a holiday person, Commander Reyes,” Angela says finally, grabbing a glass of eggnog - or nog of some kind, at least - off of a nearby table and peering at it uneasily.

“He’s not,” Ana replies dryly. “He’s just enjoying sticking it to the man.” She pulls the oversized sweater on, sighing as she realizes that there is a snowman getting his carrot dick sucked right over her breasts. Muttering something about being glad her daughter was in Canada, she crosses ineffective arms over her chest. “You know,” she says as she accepts a glass of mulled box wine from Gabriel, “It’s hard to be anti-authority when you  _ are _ the authority, Gabriel.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grumbles into his own wine.

Ana looks up at him with a measuring look and a faint smile on her face. “You said it yourself, people need to blow off steam.” She glances around the room, picking out Gabriel’s team easily in their garish sweaters. Moira appears to be giving Jesse artistic pointers on what he did to the various Elves on Shelves, and he’s good-naturedly bellowing something back. Genji is carefully hanging ornaments off the back of Moira’s sweater, dancing silently around behind her back so she doesn’t notice. 

“Well, then. I suppose what Jack and Petras don’t know won’t kill them,” she says finally.

Gabriel snorts. “Like photos from this mess aren’t going to be everywhere.”

“True.” She reaches out to grab his arm as a sudden thought occurs to her. “Gabriel. The hangar -”

“Don’t worry,” he says, a trace of a smirk in his voice. “I had Jesse go and pull all the keys, lock them up in the maintenance bay. No one’s drunkenly taking a government vehicle out into an Ohio blizzard.”

“Thank god,” Ana says. Her eyes find Jesse across the room, who’s now apparently trying to talk Angela into putting on her newly-acquired sweater. “He certainly seems to be having a good time.”

“He never really got to have Christmas before. Not like this, at least.” Gabriel feels Ana’s eyes on him and looks down at her with a frown. “What?”

Ana just smiles a bit and shakes her head, looking away. Her eye catches on the door frame above them, and the spray of white berries and narrow green leaves wrapped up in a red velvet ribbon hung up at the top. She reaches up to wrap a cool hand around the back of Gabriel’s neck. He reluctantly allows himself to be tugged down just far enough for Ana to press dry lips to his cheek. Jesse insisted on the mistletoe, saying it wouldn't be an awkward holiday party without it.  


“Happy holidays, Gabriel,” Ana says, with a pat to his other cheek that’s just barely less than a slap and a tweak of the pompom on his hat. Gabriel watches her make a circuit of the room, greeting everyone by name and spending a minute talking to each person. Gabriel has his own commanding style and has no intention of changing a damn thing about it, but sometimes he reluctantly admires the subtlety of Ana’s networking. He sips his wine and watches her talk with Genji and Jesse. She says something that makes Jesse laugh then look over at Gabriel. He turns away, setting his now empty wine glass down and getting out from under the mistletoe before anyone else gets any ideas.

-x-x-x-x-x-

An hour and a half later, and the mess hall is empty. Everyone has stumbled tipsily back to their quarters, where Gabriel is sure the party is still going in small groups. The more plant-nog they took with them the less there is to be cleaned up, so he’s not complaining. 

The majority of the cleanup is going to be done the next day, but Gabriel wants to get the food scraps thrown out and lights turned off. Garbage bag in hand, he hears footfalls from behind him. Jesse’s there with his own bag, pitching nog-crusted cups and canape detritus into the trash. Gabriel gives him a nod and keeps cleaning up. The room is quiet, their movements echoing without the sounds of music and humanity filling it. 

Gabriel goes around turning off the various trees from their rotating and flashing. They really were ridiculous, but each tree has little ornaments on it that weren’t there before. Everything from child-like hand turkeys to napkin snowflakes to an Overwatch logo folded out of wrapping paper that Gabriel thinks he sees Genji’s hand in. Some are even just little notes, saying ‘Merry Christmas!’ or ‘I miss my parents’. 

On his way to the door, Gabriel knocks his shoulder into Jesse, who’s trying to organize the empty serving trays into some sort of order. “Leave it. Ana said she’d be using cleanup tomorrow as punishment duty for whoever fucks up tonight. I just wanted to get the worst of the food gone.”

Jesse smiles a bit as they tie their trash bags off, setting them along the wall as they make their way out. “You’re expectin’ people to get themselves into trouble tonight?”

Gabriel shrugs. “Human nature. People plus alcohol plus cabin fever equals bad decisions. At least we know they’ll be restricted to being on base.”

Jesse stops in the doorway, the same one Gabriel and Ana had been lurking in earlier. Gabriel stops as well, watching how Jesse gazes out into the room with a look on his face Gabriel can’t quite parse. “What are you thinking?” he finds himself saying.

“You’re not turnin’ the lights off?” is the reply. Gabriel shut down the various trees but the strings of lights that line the tops of the walls and are wound around columns and table legs remain. The gaudy colors are toned down when against the dimness of the darkened room - softly warm and comforting instead of harsh. A few of the strings blink, changing the shadows on Jesse’s face and making him flicker between familiarity and nearly a stranger every few seconds. Gabriel looks away, discomfited and unsure why.

“Nah. They’re kind of nice, this time of night.” Gabriel feels himself being watched and glances back over to see Jesse looking at him. “What?”

“Thanks.” Jesse shakes his head at Gabriel’s automatically raised eyebrow. “I know you were doin’ this overall to be - well, to be  _ you, _ but you also let me go a little wild with it all.”

“I have no idea what you’re -”

“Fuckin’ Christ, Gabe. You know what I mean.”

He does. They’re quiet for a minute, looking at each other and the lights and trying to avoid each others’ eyes. Gabriel watches Jesse’s gaze dart around, sees him glance upwards by chance and then gets his eyes stuck on what’s hanging from the door frame. Gabriel doesn’t look away, lets himself watch Jesse’s face go through a half dozen expressions before settling on one of determination. 

It’s therefore not really a surprise when he leans forward to kiss Gabriel.

The kiss is far less tentative than Gabriel would expect - but then, when the hell has Jesse McCree ever not thrown himself headlong into something he’d do better to think about? Gabriel leans into it for a few seconds, lets himself enjoy the warm lips and firm chest pressed against his own before higher brain functions kick in and he pulls back. “Jesse -”

“No. Fuck you, just give me this you stubborn bastard,” Jesse mutters before shoving his way into Gabriel’s space, before backing him against the wall so there’s nowhere to go unless he wants to fight his way loose.

Despite knowing better, Gabriel’s not going to.

The holiday season is a time of indulgence, he rationalizes as he lets Jesse push his way into him, soft tongue and rough hands moving everywhere just a bit too quickly. Gabriel slides a hand up the back of Jesse’s neck, threading into his hair - still wearing his goddamn hat, he notices absently - and tightening. Another hand creeps under Jesse’s sweater, stroking down his side slowly, slowly, and Jesse slows down with it.

Gabriel never did need words to control Jesse.

A thread of sense winds its way through Gabriel’s brain, one that says  _ ‘you’re in public’ _ and  _ ‘if you’re going to be this stupid at least get out of security camera range’. _ He pulls back, trying not to enjoy the soft, pained noise that comes from Jesse’s throat. “I’m not saying no,” he finally says, when Jesse keeps trying to suck on his neck instead of moving anywhere. “Just - Christ, get off for a second - maybe not in the damn hallway.” 

His temporary office is just around the corner, and Jesse dogs his steps the whole time. Like now, like always. Gabriel stumbles through the doorway with Jesse nearly plastered to his back, and sees an odd reflection before he falls into his comfortable and ergonomically supportive chair that’s about to be violated in new and exciting ways. 

“Did you...wrap my computer up?” he says quizzically, pushing Jesse away for a moment and turning to look at his desk. There’s even a bow on top.

“Yeah, Ana let us in.”

Gabriel looks up at Jesse, the yellow glow from the security lights outside highlighting the sharp lines, the rough edges of him. Gabriel’s hat is pushed back a bit on his head, letting Jesse’s hair shadow his face. His eyes are just faint glints in the dimness that Gabriel can barely see. 

He doesn’t need to.

Leaning back in his chair, Gabriel looks up. Seated, but in no way not in control of the situation. “You got a better present for me, Jesse?”

They’ve both lost their smiles by this point, the holiday joy faded away for the sake of something more important, something beyond an after-party hookup. The sweater, attached light-up bulbs thankfully dark, comes off first, followed by Jesse stepping out of his boots. Each item of clothing lost is a step away from the party shenanigans and a step into a connection that will forever be changed. It’s not like Gabriel didn’t see this coming, years back. He just assumed one of them would be dead before they had the time or energy to make a move.

All too soon Jesse is climbing naked into Gabriel’s lap, miles of scarred skin and tangled hair and hard muscle balanced on top of Gabriel in a creaking chair. Gabriel lets his hands roam where they’ve wanted to before, touching scars that he’d stitched up when they were raw meat, feeling over faded tattoos that have just a hint of raised skin about them. Digging fingers into muscles in a way that makes Jesse twitch and tense and melt against him, wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s neck and pressing close.

Gabriel can’t help a soft groan of pleasure when Jesse reaches underneath his own leaking cock to rub the bulge in Gabriel’s pants. Those clever fingers of Jesse’s that are so adept at reloading and firing whatever weapon he can get his hands on are slipping inside and lifting Gabriel, heavy with blood and interest, out in just seconds. They both make noises when Jesse wraps his hand as much as he can around them both, the sounds blending into each other through their connected mouths. Gabriel’s just mentally cursing not being in his own office where he at least has lotion when Jesse suddenly pulls back.

“Wait a sec, I have something.” He slides off, bending down to root around in his discarded pants. Gabriel’s enjoying the view when he hears the click of a cap, and a rather horrible scent of cloying sugar and bitter, artificial spices fills the air. Jesse turns around, waggling a small bottle of lube at Gabriel. “It’s gingerbread flavor!”

Gabriel leans his head back and stares at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck he ended up here. A black ops military commander in combat boots, tactical pants, an ugly Christmas sweater, and his cock hanging out - traitorously not wilting even as the nauseating fragrance of the lube makes it hard to breathe. Before he can start cataloguing exactly where he went wrong with his life, Jesse’s clambering back on top of him. 

Eager kisses are pressed to his mouth, and soon Gabriel’s thankfully smelling the warm scent of Jesse, all sweat-hot skin and tobacco and bourbon. A plastic bottle is shoved into the hand that’s been gripping Jesse’s thigh, with “Come on, please Gabe,” breathed against his lips.

Gabriel pushes one of Jesse’s thighs on top of the armrest to give himself some room to work. He’s sure that Jesse expects it to be fast, rough - expects it out of himself, to be honest. Instead his fingers wander, learning. Exploring and petting at tight muscle until Jesse’s tense from keeping himself from not squirming, until he slides just one thick finger in and makes Jesse sigh a broken noise against his neck. 

His touches are slow, almost cruelly so as he slides and slowly stretches, feels around this way and that until Jesse’s curled up into himself on Gabriel’s lap, panting harshly into the crook of Gabriel’s neck where his collar is pulled down. Gabriel has him held tightly, pinned down as securely as if Jesse was tied up with one hand on the back of his head holding him close and the other inside him. 

He wonders if he could wring Jesse dry just like this, making him come over and over until he doesn’t even have the moisture for the saliva and overstimulated tears he can feel smeared against his neck. Wonders if that’s something he could let himself have, now.

He doesn’t have to wonder if Jesse would let him. 

Gabriel’s clothed but Jesse’s the one that’s sweating, long trails of wetness moving down the bumps of his spine, veering off when they hit one of his many scars. He takes pity, finally, pulling his fingers out of Jesse with a wet, vulgar sound. Squeezing a bit more lube into his hand, he winces at the smell before tossing the bottle away and working a hand in between them to slick up his own cock.

He murmurs words of encouragement in Jesse’s ear -  _ come on, sit up for me, there we go _ \- that are far softer than anything that’s ever come out of his mouth during the past decade he’s trained Jesse. 

Jesse obeys him like always, pushing himself up on barely steady arms, letting Gabriel tug his hips forward until he’s positioned where he wants him. Gabriel reaches up, tracing a cheekbone with a blunt thumb until Jesse looks at him with almost fever-bright eyes. He raises an eyebrow - a last out that he knows Jesse will never take but needs to offer anyways. Jesse just reaches a hand underneath himself, lets his eyes slide shut, and sinks down. 

Gabriel closes his own eyes for a moment at the near-painful tightness before setting his hands on the curve where waist, thigh, and ass meet. He tugs up, pushes down - enhanced muscles easily moving Jesse’s weight. Jesse moves in sync with him, slowly and then like every other time they’ve worked and fought together, bodies that have clashed a thousand times now working towards a common goal.

Jesse’s head is tilted back, the sweat on the long line of his neck gleaming in the light from outside. Gabriel bites marks into his chest, his collarbone. Nothing that can be seen by other people, because they already know that Jesse is his. Just patches of bruising, of irritation that will chafe against armor and scratch  _ mine _ into the back of Jesse’s mind with every move he makes.

As if it wasn’t engraved there already.

It’s too much, embarrassingly enough. Too hot, too tight, too much of Jesse in front of him for the taking. Gabriel pulls Jesse close, hands brutally tense and pressing bruises in the shape of his fingerprints deep into Jesse’s skin. He comes with a snarl, biting the sound into the meat of Jesse’s shoulder until there’s nothing on his tongue but the taste of salt and copper. Jesse doesn’t react other than to breathe harsher and groan somewhere deep in his chest. He comes down from it slowly, pulling his teeth out of Jesse’s skin slowly, kissing apologies into the abused, tender skin. 

Gabriel doesn’t move, stays buried inside as he tilts his head back to lick the soft pleas right off of Jesse’s tongue. His hand wraps around the blood-hot length of Jesse, moving slower than he can feel Jesse wants. Jesse moves restlessly, obviously in desperate need to come and just as obviously not wanting to disrupt whatever plan Gabriel has.

The only real thought in Gabriel’s head is _I want to see him fall apart._

Jesse’s hips helplessly make little grinding movements downwards as Gabriel’s grip tightens, accelerates. Fingernails bite through Gabriel’s sweater into his sides and he absently hopes that they won’t heal up as fast as normal.

When Jesse comes, he makes the same sound he does as when he gets shot. A choked off groan that turns into a soft gasp, and Gabriel knows that forever after this he’s going to get hard when Jesse gets injured. He strokes him through it, until Jesse’s twitching, until his sweater is streaked white over the red and black, until the first words either of them have uttered in long minutes are  _ too much I’m sorry I can’t - _

Gabriel strokes fingers over the bumps of scars and ribs too close to the surface, up and down until the tension in Jesse’s body has faded somewhat. He threads his hand into Jesse’s hair, underneath the hat he’s somehow still wearing, and pulls his head away from Gabriel’s shoulder enough to check on him. 

There’s a look on Jesse’s face, and it says that he would let Gabriel break him if he wanted. That maybe he already has. 

It’s - too much, right now. Gabriel lets Jesse nestle back into him and absently rubs his back as he watches the snow fall silently outside the window.

-x-x-x-x-x-

A shrill beeping cuts through the pounding in Gabriel’s head like a freshly sharpened knife through flesh.

“Make it stop.” They’re less words than vaguely tonal grunts. Gabriel hasn’t drunk wine in a long damn time and he’s remembering why.

A shifting on the bed next to him, and a piece of plastic is thumping against his thigh. “Yours not mine,” is the mumbled response.

Gabriel cracks an eye open, the dim light of the room saying that he’s not in his own bedroom back in Zurich with its beautiful, glorious blackout curtains. The alert that’s going off is for a meeting that he already told Jack he wasn’t going to call in for, because a reasonable mid-morning call in Switzerland was ass o’clock in the morning here. He finally gets the tablet to shut up, and tosses it aside uncaring of where it lands.

“Anythin’ we gotta do?” grunt Jesse from next to him, wrapped completely up in blankets and tucked in along Gabriel’s side.

“Nah.” 

“Wha’ time issit?”

“Too early. Go back to sleep.” It’s still storming outside - Gabriel can just barely see the snow piled up on the windowsill against the slightly paler pre-dawn light outside.

An thick arm snakes around his waist, sour breath puffing against his chest. “Merry Christmas, Gabe.”

Genji will undoubtedly know by now, Gabriel fuzzily thinks, given how they’d stupidly been acting and the fact Jesse didn’t go back to the barracks last night. Ana as well, because she’s an all-knowing fucker when she wants to be. Between the snow outside and the warm bed and the knowledge that he has nowhere to be for a solid day, Gabriel somehow just can’t find it in himself to give a shit. Nothing he can do now, anyways.

He presses a kiss into Jesse’s sleep-warm hair and lets himself forget there’s a world outside of this bed for a just little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> everything mentioned is something that is available somewhere. usually online and not in walmart, but whatever. christmas consumerism is the devil
> 
> thanks for reading friends, come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/thereweregiants)


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